


Manners Maketh the (Wo)Man

by themillersdaughtersmistress



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Domestic Violence, F/F, Gore, Kingsman Spoilers, Teacher-Student Relationship, Temporary Character Death, Unwilling Insertion of Explosive Chips Inside the Brain, Violence, Warning: Kingsman Church Shootout Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themillersdaughtersmistress/pseuds/themillersdaughtersmistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Emma learns to be a secret agent, and then the entire world ‘goes to shit’ as Merlin so eloquently puts it.<br/>~*~<br/>“That wasn’t an answer, lady!” Emma said as she came up beside her. Even with the inch Emma had on her, she still had a longer stride, making Emma work to keep up. “I don’t care what you think I owe you for this, but you owe me your name!”</p><p>The lady stopped in front of Granny’s. “Regina Mills,” she stated, holding out her hand. The light glinting off her glasses made her smile look as deadly as her walk. “And as I said ten years ago, Emma, this is more me filling a favor I owed you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue. – 55.7500 N, 37.6167 E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironically, I chose to do this crossover because I needed something fun and happy to write. From the tags and from the fact that nothing about the process of writing is fun ever, you can tell it didn't work out that way. Thank you to napfreak for the lovely art for this! Make sure to go and tell her how amazing of a job she did! here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5920102
> 
> tumblr: captainqueer-oflesbos(main)//themillersdaughtersmistress(art/fic)

**Zero. – 55.7500 N, 37.6167 E**

“By the time I count to ten,” Regina told their captive, the foreign language as heavy on her tongue as the gun in her hand, “you will have told me exactly what I need to know.”

Merlin stood off to the side with his recruit, David Nolan, who was antsy where his mentor was stoic. The boy wasn’t used to the brutalities Kingsmen sometimes had to commit, making this the perfect mission, in the mind of Arthur, to assess whether the position of Lancelot should be given to him or Regina’s own candidate, James, who had become David’s best friend while here. Personally Regina thought David would be a better Lancelot in the long run, given he _was_ antsy now. James held an almost bored posture that, while not technically wrong, turned Regina’s stomach in a way that she couldn’t pinpoint.

“If not,” Regina said, finishing the captive’s bonds then walking away. She turned back to face him when she was out of arm’s reach, finishing with, “the number ten will be the last thing you will ever hear.”

“One,” she began.

“Two.”

“Three.” She took out her gun and blew out his kneecaps.

“Four.” The captive screamed, curling in on himself.

“Five.”

“Six.”

“Seven.” The captive slowly uncurled, something black and circular glinting in his mouth.

“Eight,” she said, and would have continued if not for David’s shout of:

“Grenade!”

She instinctively launched herself towards the captive, but David used his whole body to push her back, jumping on him himself. The world exploded, and her ears rang as she stared, uncomprehensive, at the bodies before her.

Slowly, the three Kingsmen left climbed to their feet. After an eternity of silence, Regina swore. _She missed it_ , played on a loop in her head. _Ten years of this and she_ missed _it_.

“I’m…so sorry I’ve put you in this position, Merlin,” she said, voice thick with unshed tears. Merlin continued to stare at David’s body, before finally looking up and nodding at her in acknowledgement.

“Your training is over,” he addressed James, voice gruff.

Regina walked over to James and shook his hand, congratulating him with words that felt  bitter on her tongue. “Welcome to Kingsman, Lancelot.”

She turned back to the bodies. “I’ll deal with this mess personally.”

~*~

“I’m so sorry that your husband’s death can’t be celebrated publicly, I hope you understand.”

David’s next of kin turned out to be a wife and a surly teenager, in a comfortable home on the outskirts of London. Regina had felt distinctly _un_ comfortable since she found that out hours ago, and that discomfort only grew when she set foot in the home. Evidence of home and family was strewn haphazardly throughout the room she was in and beyond, where she knew that surly teen—Emma, she’d said her name was—was eavesdropping. It made her sick to know in detail what they’d taken David from.

“How can I understand?” his wife, Mary Margaret, demanded. “You won’t tell me anything! I didn’t even know he wasn’t with his squad.” Her face was blotchy and red and covered in tears, and Regina was helpless to comfort her.

“I’m so sorry I can’t say more,” Regina told her, then held up the medallion she’d begged then strong-armed her mother, the Arthur of the Kingsman, into making. “But I would like to give you this medal of valor, on his behalf. On the back, there’s a number; a favor, if you would accept it. Call it, and we will be at your beck and call for anything you choose. Just tell the person on the other end of the line ‘oxfords, not brogues,’ and we’ll know it’s you.” The code had been her mother’s idea. “It’s a one-time-only arrangement, so make sure it’s an emergency.”

She tried to offer Mary Margaret a smile, but the woman looked at her in pure disgust, slapping her hand away. “I don’t want your _help_! I want my husband back!” She collapsed into sobs. Regina (and her stinging pride and hand) took that to mean the conversation was over, and moved out of the room.

She was almost out of the house when a voice stopped her. “Was it at least cool, how he died?” It was David’s daughter, Emma. She pushed off where she was leaning on the wall of the entryway hall and walked over to her. “It wasn’t something dumb, was it? Like leaving his top secret tent to take a shit and then getting blown sky-high by an old bomb even the enemy’d forgotten about?”

That forced a bark of laughter from Regina, even with the guilt weighing heavy on her. “No, it was…” Her smile disappeared. “I missed something I shouldn’t have, and if it hadn’t been for your father, I would’ve gotten everyone there sent back to their families in pieces, including myself.”

Emma nodded. “Good. What about that medal you were showing my mum?” She held her hand out expectantly. “I figure we’re gonna need it at some point, even if she doesn’t want it, considering dad was where we got our money from. Or is that against your top secret government protocols?”

Regina shook her head slowly, that earlier smile tugging at her lips again. “No, it isn’t.” She dropped the medal in the girl’s hand, eyes flickering back in the direction of the living room. “Make sure you take care of them, alright?”

Emma’s eyes followed hers, and she nodded. “On my life.”


	2. One. – Ten Years Later

**One. – Ten Years Later**

“Oh, for god’s sake just rip it off!” Professor Bo P. Epmann snapped, duct tape still have attached to her mouth. She was tied to a chair in a room full of huge, armed men on top of having duct tape on her mouth and a bag over her head for the past hour. For the twenty three preceding that, she’d been hogtied in some form or fashion, being carted around the world. For the first two hours or so, it was terrifying. For the rest, it was simply annoying.

“I’m sorry, Miss Bo Peep,” the lead of her captors said, “but our employer has been very strict in telling us not to harm you.”

“Look,” Bo tried reason for the first time in about four hours. “You’ve got the wrong woman! I’m a university professor, I’ve got no money. Whatever you found under that username that wasn’t strictly save-the-environment related was utter bullshit and put there by someone else!”

“This isn’t about money,” he said in what she was sure was supposed to be reassuring tones, but only sent chills down her spine. “Our boss just wants to talk to you.”

“Reassuring,” she quipped.

They stared at each other, neither budging, before her captor broke. “Do you like whiskey?” She gave a grudging nod. “Duke, get the ’62 Delmont.” Against her will, Bo smiled. Maybe they weren’t all heathens. “Seriously, this whiskey is the best you’ve ever had—you will shit.” That ripped a bark of laughter from her, but before she got it, a knock came on the door.

 _Oh, thank god_ , she thought. _Finally, the mysterious boss. Maybe he’s not such a bad guy—whoever has this taste in whiskey can’t be, but we really must talk about how—_

_Oh._

_Oh no._

A gun. That was definitely a gun her captor had pulled out of the waistband of his jeans, and everyone else was tensing up around her. He opened the door, and there before him was a man in a suit. _A suit in the mountains and blizzards around this safehouse_!

“Is asking for a cup of sugar going too far here?” the man asked with an impish grin. He was completely unaffected by the cold around him, his childish glee equally unaffected by the scar running down his face beside his eye.

Her captor, who she was actually beginning to like, whipped his gun out only to have it caught by Mr. Sugar, who then proceeded to shoot him and everyone in the room. _Dear god that was a finger. He shot a man’s finger clean off and it’s now on the floor by my heels._

“Professor Epmann,” he said, kneeling on one knee and the gun still smoking while Bo stared in shock, “I’m here to rescue you.”

Before Bo could scrape together enough of her wits to reply, the sound of someone walking closer interrupted them. Mr. Sugar smoothly slid under the arm—holding a tray with her whiskey—of the last of her captors, shooting him and carefully sweeping the tumbler into his hand. He took a sip and gave a satisfied hum.

 _My whiskey_ , Bo thought glumly.

Mr. Sugar grinned. “1962 Delmont. I wouldn’t live up to my training if I spilled any.”

And then, a second time, there was a knock on the door. Mr. Sugar slowly walked over to answer it. He didn’t get the chance to open the door, of course, because this appeared to be Bo’s life for the foreseeable future. Not ten feet from the door, two foot long knives emerged from Bo’s peripheral and sliced Mr. Sugar clean in half, straight from the tip of his head to his toes.

Those knives then revealed themselves to be attached to a girl, black and blond hair straight and dressed in a frilly black something Bo would expect from one of her undergrads, not a cold hearted assassin who was apparently literally all knives from her knees onward. She lifted the drink from Mr. Sugar’s hands right before gravity pulled him apart, the two pieces of him falling apart and baring all their red and bloodied insides for the world to see.

Bo felt like throwing up a bit.

The new girl pranced off up the stairs and came back with a pile of towels in her arms. “Can you hold these?” she asked—sweetly, politely, like she hadn’t just cut a man _in half_. Bo shakily held up her hands, saw a flash of silver, nearly screamed—but it was just the girl using her prosthetics to cut the rope binding her wrists to the chair. She carefully places the towels over the bloodiest parts of the dead bodies, saving Mr. Sugar’s two halves for last before going to open the door, grabbing the drink on her way.

Opening the door, she presented it to the man standing there in the biggest coat Bo had ever seen. He was a relatively short man with long unkept brown hair. When he smiled at her, Bo could see his molars shone gold.

“Everything taken care of, Cruella?” he asked the girl, and she nodded. “Good! Just my kind of welcome, wouldn’t you agree, Professor?” He smiled at her before frowning in concern, finally noticing she was shaking.

“I’m so sorry you had to see all that…unpleasantness,” the man said, kneeling before her. He offered her the drink. She took it, downing it in one go. “I’d prefer it not to have to happen at all, but when my men said they were being tailed, I worried. It seems, from the sheets, that those were founded. Don’t worry, though; by the time I know who he was, you and I will be the best of friends!”

Finally, Bo forced something out. “Why the sheets?” Not what she intended, but better than remaining mute.

His eyes sparkled. “Oh, those? Simple—I don’t like blood.” His nose wrinkled. “Hate it actually. I have the worst stomach around it; the boys in school teased me mercilessly over my getting nauseous from someone’s papercut. Even in the best school money can buy, there are still boys that are little assholes.”

Cruella cleared her throat.

“Oh! I suppose I should tell you why I’m here, shouldn’t I?” He held out his hand, and Bo shook. “I’m Mr. Robert Gold, of Golden Enterprises! And do I ever have the proposition for you, dearie.”

 

Regina nearly screamed when she saw the red ‘K’ flashing at her from the screen attached to the back of the cab driver’s seat. One of theirs had died, was what it meant. She knew exactly who it was—with her luck, how could it be anyone but _him_?

 _I was_ this _close to getting mother to see the other side of things_ , she thought bitterly. Now, with James’s death, there would be no new blood in the organization for another ten years, at least. She sneered just at the thought of the new recruits. _Pampered brats, the lot of them, no matter how many muscles they’ll gain_.

“To the shop, please,” she told her driver, and he obeyed without a word. By the time she’d gotten to the shop, she’d fully composed herself, and had resolved herself to holding her position on their selection of the applicants. Her mother and those that agreed with her would see reason. They had to.

 _‘Kingsman: Men and Women’s Bespoke’_ was emblazoned across the front. It was a nice façade for a tailor’s shop: understated, but with an air of wisdom and sophistication unlike anything on the street. Too bad it wasn’t real.

“Arthur’s in the back already, ma’am,” Tamara greeted her from the front desk when she walked in. She had fabrics lain out in front of her, but Regina heard the distinct _click-click-bang_ that accompanied any of Merlin’s department when they ventured outside of the workspace. None of the lot was capable of leaving any of their projects alone.

“Merlin’s not prepping you for the recruits?” Regina asked idly, stalling more than anything. “I, personally thought you were very good last time—if a little dramatic.” She grinned.

Tamara snorted. “I was supposed to be—I still look nineteen, don’t I?” she responded. “Get back there, before Arthur comes and tears both our heads off.”

Regina sighed, but complied. It wouldn’t be fair to drag Tamara into this. As much as she was definitely older than nineteen, she was still very young—one of the newest of Merlin’s personal recruits. She was bright, though, and Regina couldn’t have trusted her more than if she’d picked her herself.

No matter how slowly Regina walked, the doors to the dining room still came into view. She straightened her spine, and threw the doors open, striding confidently to her seat on the right of the head. The room was empty except for her and the one other occupant. At the very head of it sat Arthur: a conniving and whip-smart woman who had seen even the hardest Kingsman agents come and go, sitting and guiding them for almost thirty years. She was also Regina’s mother—Cora Mills.

“Galahad,” Cora smiled at her in a way no one could mistake for friendly. “So nice of you to join us.”

“Arthur,” Regina said, bowing at the waist before taking her seat and putting on her Kingsman issue glasses. Instantly, the other ten Kingsman appeared. Gareth and Percival, better known as Kathryn and Maleficent, were staring at her with barely hidden pity. Since they were her dearest and oldest friends in the service, they would have loved to be there for the confrontation that would follow this meeting. Since they were at some undisclosed location buried as moles, though, there was no way for them to be here. Regina had the absurd thought that her mother somehow organized this, before pushing it aside. Conniving she was, but deliberately killing one of their own was something Cora Mills would never do.

“Now that we’re all here,” Cora began, “I’d like to say that I am proud that we have not had occasion to do this for almost ten years to the date. Lancelot, despite my…misgivings, was a good agent, who would want to be remembered with pride at what he achieved, despite how different his upbringing was to our own. To Lancelot”

“To Lancelot,” they all repeated, and then Cora and Regina were alone. The air remained tense between them for all of a second before Merlin came in, clipboard in hand as it always was. The man had movie star good looks and the build of a star athlete, so the image of him in glasses and clipboard had been funny to Regina for the entire first month of her knowing him. What amused her now was his irritation with his slowly but surely receding hairline, pulling back to show the shiny light brown surface underneath.

“Ah, Merlin!”  Cora said, making no move to get up. “Come in!” She turned to Regina. “I had no chance to tell you before the toast, but you’re getting a new assignment. Merlin, tell us what Lancelot was working on.” Regina didn’t get a chance to protest— _it’s too soon, I’m the only reserve we have_ —before Merlin bowed in acknowledgement then projecting what was on his clipboard onto the screen. “Glasses, ladies.” They obediently adjusted them so they could see what he put on the screen.

“Uganda, 2012,” Merlin began in his usual way of jumping right in. On the screen, bodies were piled on top of each other, piles scattered throughout the entire frame. Limbs were ripped off and twisted in weird ways, and the ground was covered in a dark substance Regina was sure was blood. “Synthetic cathinone, put in the water supply of a guerrilla army base. Rage, cannibalism, and all dead within forty-eight hours.” He swiped another picture onto the screen. “Chechnya, 2013. Same result, and undoubtedly the work of the same people who placed the synthetic cathinone in 2012, but no trace of any chemical was found.” Another picture, this time of a quaint cottage covered in snow. “He tracked them to this property in Argentina. While observing he realized they’d kidnapped someone.” The code marking transmissions from Lancelt’s glasses appeared on the screen, along with the words ‘Kidnap victim: Bo P. Epmann’ appeared on the screen.

“Never heard of them,” Regina shrugged dismissively.

“A professor by day, and environmental doomsayer by night, spouting off some bullshit about the world healing itself, nothing important.” Merlin fiddled with his clipboard. “What is important, is this.” A grainy video appeared on the screen, of a tall lady that was likely Professor Epmann walking across a courtyard, briefcase in hand. “That was taken this morning, at Imperial University, in fact.”

“It’s all yours,” Cora said with something approaching pride in her voice. After all these years, she was still addicted to it. Merlin slid a folder from his clipboard across the table to her, before walking out. Regina stood up to follow suit, and was almost out the door before her mother’s voice stopped her. “And, darling? Do try to pick a more suitable candidate for the Lancelot position this time.”

Regina stopped. “Ten years, my life saved, and still you refuse to see reason, mother? He was as much Kingsman as any of us.” Cora scoffed. Regina continued out of the room, only slowing to say, “You know, mother, there was a reason the aristocrats grew weak chins.”


	3. Two. - Granny's

**Two. – Granny’s**

Emma stayed in her room for as long as she could before Neal’s crying got to her. As usual, Whale was out in their living room taking up most of the couch, with Mary Margaret, the woman that used to be Emma’s mom, pressed up against his side in the little room that was left. Two of Whale’s drinking buddies were taking up the other chairs in the room, watching something on the TV. All of them were ignoring Neal. Emma gave Whale the stink eye as she leaned down beside Neal’s crib.

The cries got quieter the second she got there, and stopped almost completely as Emma talked nonsense to him. “There ya go, that’s a good boy,” she whispered, smiling at him as she put his pacifier back in his mouth.

“Hey, kid,” and Emma’s fingers froze on the pacifier, her entire body tensing up at the sound of Whale’s voice. “Your mom wants a pack of cigarettes.” He waved a twenty at her, and Mary Margaret wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Why don’t you go get us some? And maybe not come back for a couple hours.”

Emma wanted to punch him. “Sure,” she grunted, snatching the money out of his hand and leaving to the sound of the jeering of everyone in the room.

 

Granny’s was, no contest, the shittiest pub within a mile radius. It was dirty, dimly lit, slow moving, and Emma was fairly certain cockroaches were building an army under the floodboards. The food, though, was the best anywhere in the city.

“And, I swear Em, we’ll get the most savage fucking wolves to come and rip his dick off,” Ruby said, face stuffed with hamburger and waving a fry at her. Lily, beside her, laughed out loud at the look on Ruby’s face. They both had drinks in front of them, but only Lily was obviously tipsy. The company, Emma conceded, wasn’t bad either. If, of course, she ignored Jefferson and hit lot on the other side of the room. Jefferson was Whale’s best man, and arguably worse than Whale. At least with him, you knew you were getting a monster, whereas with Jefferson, no one knew until it was too late.

“Not a chance,” Emma said, grinning anyway at Ruby’s antics. “I bet you anything they have something on the wolves around here, too. Not just a few low level cops.”

“Not enough to stop me and Gran,” Ruby boasted proudly, nodding her head at the unassuming lady behind the counter. Granny owned the place, of course, as well as being Ruby’s actual grandmother. “Wolves run in our blood, Em.”

“Besides,” Lily slurred, pointing a finger across the restaurant. “You gonna let those assholes run both you and Mary Margaret’s life forever?” Ruby shushed her, pushing her arm down, but it was too late.

“What was that, dear Emma?” Jefferson swung himself to his feet, boots clacking hard against the floor and shutting everyone up. He walked over, gliding across the floor. His goons weren’t far behind. “Oh I get it,” he said when he was closer, towering over them. His voice lifted in parts, like it should be sung in a musical. A Sweeney-Todd-esque musical, but a musical nonetheless. “You think that since Whale’s current obsession is your mum, you’re free to talk shit about us whenever you want?”

Emma stood up abruptly, getting into Jefferson’s personal space. Immediately, the goons shifted forward, and Ruby and Lily cried out ‘let it go!’ and ‘it’s not worth it!’ to her. She waited a second, then muttered, “Sorry,” before pushing past him. Ruby and Lily followed after her.

The night air stung on Emma’s cheeks, red with intoxication.  The continued walking around the corner, and Ruby shivered behind her. Lily pulled her coat tighter around her.

“It’s freezing,” Emma told them, giddy. She held up the keys she’d palmed off Jefferson. “Why’re we walking?”

Ruby gaped at her. “You jacked his car keys?” Lily demanded. In answer, Emma pressed the unlock button. A beautiful, expensive looking yellow car blinked not two feet from her. The idea forming in her head, she thought, was probably the best one she’d ever had.


	4. Three. - The Medallion

**Three. – The Medallion**

Stealing the car of one of one of Whale’s favorite goons might have, in retrospect, been a mistake. Emma winced as she gingerly felt the back of her neck for the third time since waking up that morning in a jail cell. Whiplash stung even more when you’d gotten it from running a stolen car headfirst into the police’s.

“You know,” the investigator in front of her (that she’d been ignoring for the duration of the time he’d been interrogating her) said, “Contrary to popular belief, there is no honor among thieves, Miss Swan. You don’t have to protect your friends.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk to her. “Especially if an upstanding lady such as yourself were somehow coerced into this.”

Emma’s jaw tightened, and she wracked her brain for options. “I get a phone call, right?” she demanded. “That’s the law, isn’t it?”

The investigator sighed. “You do indeed.” He slid the phone over to her. “If I were you, I’d make sure it was to my mum. Tell her I’d be a bit late for dinner.”

She watched until he was out of the room, before pulling the medallion from under her shirt. It wasn’t that it wouldn’t have come in handy before now, it was just she’d always been able to get herself out of these situations on her own, without leaving her mom and Neal alone for more than was necessary. The sixteen months that was hanging over her head was definitely more than necessary. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before calling the number.

 

“Who the hell are you?” Emma demanded. It probably wasn’t the most polite answer to someone calling your name, but the only time someone that dressed and looked that nice talked to her usually ended up with her in a bad situation.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to the woman that got you released,” the woman said, stepping down from the stairs in front of the precinct and walking off, long umbrella clicking against the sidewalk. The suit she was wearing clung to her like a second skin, moving over her like the pelt would over a deadly animal. Emma stared for a good while before remembering her irritation (and her dignity) and chasing after her.

“That wasn’t an answer, lady!” Emma said as she came up beside her. Even with the inch Emma had on her, she still had a longer stride, making Emma work to keep up. “I don’t care what you think I owe you for this, but _you_ owe me your name!”

The lady stopped in front of _Granny’s_. “Regina Mills,” she stated, holding out her hand. The light glinting off her glasses made her smile look as deadly as her walk. “And as I said ten years ago, Emma, this is more _me_ filling a favor I owed _you_.”

Emma could have hit herself for not recognizing her sooner. “You’re the woman that gave this to me?” she whispered.

Regina nodded. “Come in with me, and I’ll answer everything I’m allowed,” she promised. Emma nodded, following her in a daze.

Granny stood behind the counter, and Emma could feel her shocked gaze on her back as they sat in the furthest booth, Emma snagging two menus on their way over. Both she and Granny knew the same thing. If Jefferson didn’t have permission from Whale to kill her before last night’s stunt, he would now. Regina, oblivious or ignoring the tension in the nearly empty restaurant, smiled at Granny as she came over to take their order. “I’ll have your special, please. Emma?”

“Oh, uh—that’s okay, you don’t—” Emma tried to say, before Granny, of all people, talked over her.

“Your usual burger and fries will do you just fine,” she said firmly. _You’ll need it_ , went unsaid. She walked back to fill their orders herself, since Ruby showing her face would be unwise for the same reason Emma sitting in this booth was suicide.

They sat in silence. Emma wracked her brain for a topic. “So…where’d you get the suit?”

Regina smiled. “It was a gift,” she said. “For my first day on the job. Kingsman tailors likes its employees to uphold a certain standard. It’s on the corner of Mocton Street and Second Avenue. Do you know it?”

Emma deflated, the hope of some sort of the woman being some sort of spy with her dad, a hope she didn’t even know she had, gone. “No. Were you in the army before you were a tailor?” she asked, grasping at straws.

“Of a sort,” Regina said, hiding her smile behind the drink Granny placed in front of her. It looked like the good whiskey, and Emma scowled at the soda Granny gave her. Soda, despite being what she ordered all the time, did not impress a fancy-suit-wearing whiskey-drinker.

“So can you tell me anything about how my dad died? Or is it still—”

“—classified.” Regina at least looked a little apologetic.

“But it still was cool? Not just something you said to get a nosey fourteen year old to shut up?”

“The coolest. He was a very brave and resourceful man.” Regina’s face hardened. “And I think he would be very disappointed in the choices you’ve made with your life.”

Emma turned beet red. “Hey, what the fuck kind of nerve do you—”

“Huge IQ,” Regina cut her off. “Star of the debate team while balancing both dance and football. Not just balancing— _excelling_ , and now you’re living off your mum and never had a job in your life.”

“You think there are jobs just lined up around the corner here, do you? You haven’t got a clue how—”

“Not having a job doesn’t explain you giving up your hobbies, nor does it explain you quitting the marines right in the middle of training while being top of your class.”

“ _She needed me!_ ” Emma exploded. “My mum needed me at home, she _wanted_ me home, kept going on about how she couldn’t have me be canon-fodder like my dad for rich, candy-assed snobs like _you_! You haven’t got a clue the choices we all had to make, _still_ have to make, to keep our families safe and happy, and maybe if we had the same cushy job as you, we’d do just as well, if not twice as good, as you are!”

“Oh, _Emma_ ,” a syrup-y sweet voice said from the door of Granny’s, and Emma’s blood ran cold. Jefferson stepped through the door fully, allowing his lapdogs to file in after him.

Regina raised her eyebrow. “Friends of yours in need of a cushy job?” she whispered.

“Nope,” Emma responded, nearly frozen in fear.

“I can’t figure out if you’re just this stupid,” Jefferson continued. “Or if you think you can actually challenge me.” He walked over, pressing his palms to the table and leaning over them. “Now that you’ve pissed Whale off so well with your little stunt with my car, there’s nothing standing between your face and _our_ fists.”

“Gentlemen,” Regina interrupted, and Emma’s heart dropped like a stone into her stomach. She gave them the biggest smile Emma’d seen on her thus far. “I’ve had a bit of an emotional day, and while I’m sure it’s well-founded, can you leave whatever _beef_ you have with Emma until after I’ve conducted my business with her.”

Jefferson threw his head back and laughed. “While I appreciate _business_ as much as the next man, I’ll have to decline. Now, you might want to get out of the way, or you might get hurt.” After a pause where Emma was sure Regina would be getting her ass handed to her along with herself, Regina shrugged, got up, and continued delicately to the door.

“If you’re looking for another rent girl, they’re on the corner of Smith’s Street,” one of Jefferson’s goons called after her. They turned back to her, and Emma closed her eyes, praying for this day _not_ to get any worse. She heard a click, and curiously, something that sounded a lot like a deadbolt sliding into place.

“You know, my mother always had this saying,” Regina said from the door. The handle of the umbrella leaned against the table by the door, right beside a forgotten drink, while she gripped the middle of it. “Only useful thing she taught me, actually: manners maketh the woman. Do any of you know what that means?” You could hear a pin drop in the restaurant. “No? Then allow me to teach you a lesson.” Without warning, she yanked her umbrella off the table so the handle caught on the drink, sending it flying back to hit Jefferson square on the forehead. He went down like a rock while they all gaped on.

“Are all you goons good for is standing around?” Regina was grinning now, and oh was Emma was so wrong about her smile looking deadly. If _that_ had been deadly, then this was positively feral. “And do all of you stand around reeking incompetence while your leader was taken down by some _girl_?”

With a roar, the first goon flew forward, and it was a blur after that. Regina seemed to turn to liquid and pure steel at the same time. She was sliding in and out of her opponent’s views while using their weight against them, sometimes allowing the punch of someone else to take down another, and sometimes landing solid blows where she couldn’t—or chose not to—get out of the way in time. The umbrella itself turned out to be a weapon, it’s fully extended form blocking bullets from Jefferson’s gun when he finally stumbled to his feet. Horror dawned on his face when he realized he was out of bullets and there wasn’t a single scratch on Regina. Regina’s wrist twitched, and she seemed to pull the handle like a trigger, before Jefferson went down.

Slowly, Regina got up from the kneeling position she’d been in to shoot Jefferson, turning even slower to look at Emma. They were both frozen, waiting for the other to make a move, before a clatter interrupted them. Granny was scrambling for the phone, fumbling as she tried to dial for the police in her panicked state. Regina sighed, seeming to check her watch, before pressing a button. Something shot out and his Granny in the neck, making her collapse onto the bar counter.

“Sorry,” Regina said, not sounding very apologetic at all. “I probably should have let off steam somewhere else.” Emma squeaked. “I’m also sorry about this, Emma.” She turned the watch on her.

“Wait!” Emma threw up her hands. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I swear!”

“You sure?”

“Definitely! Ask any of my friends, I’ve never ratted any of them out!”

“Swear on your life?”

“On my life!” Emma struggled not to breathe too obvious of a sigh of relief when Regina lowered her arm. Regina patted on the shoulder, holding on for a second and smiling.

“Thank you, Emma,” she says. “I…do regret that this will likely be the last time you ever see me. Good luck with your family, dear.”

And then she was gone. Emma waited a minute before scrambling up to rush out, knowing her luck probably wouldn’t hold out enough for Jefferson to have had a personality change by the time he woke up.

On autopilot, she went home, thinking about the woman that had gotten her out of jail. It didn’t even occur to her that going home after someone had laid out Whale’s goons in her name might be a bad idea until Mary Margaret was desperately trying to push her back out the door.

“Emma, please, _go,_ he’s going to kill you—” Mary Margaret managed to get out before Whale shoved her out of the way, slamming Emma into the door.

“Who the _fuck_ was with you at that pub?” he shouted, his face red as he held her up against the door by her throat.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she gasped out. Her promise to Regina rung in her ears, just as loud as Mary Margaret’s crying.

Whale slapped her, knocking her to the ground. Emma fumbled into a sitting position, but by that time Whale had grabbed a knife and was waving it in her face. Emma stayed down purely to avoid cutting herself on it. “Don’t you dare lie to me again! I want to know the name of the cunt you were with before I cut off a limb!”

“Well that’s too bad,” Regina’s voice suddenly resonated throughout the entire apartment, and Whale stumbled back. Curiously, the sound seemed to originate from Emma’s back. “You will likely never know who I am, Doctor Victor Whale, but from your voice I was able to learn quite a few interesting details about you. Enough to put you and that pesky little ring of smugglers in jail, for once?”

“Who the hell are you?” Whale spun around, staring at the ceiling.

“As I said, no one you need to worry about,” Regina’s smile was coming through loud and clear even through speakers. “Emma, would you be a dear and come to the tailor shop I mentioned? I think I have something to tell you after all.”

Emma scrambled out the door while Whale was still twirling in place, then ducked out of sight just a second too late when she saw Jefferson and his goons standing just outside the door. Their shouts followed her as she quickly twisted out of the way of their grabs and fists, laughing and high off the adrenaline form an unexpected savior. She slid down the side of the building and gave them all a one-fingered salute when she looked up and saw they hadn’t moved an inch.

She genuinely whistled on her way to the shop, despite how dark it was getting, and the fact that Jefferson or Whale or some other new enemy could catch up with her before she even got to the shop. There was nothing that could touch her good mood now.

The door had an actual bell that jingled when she stepped in, looking around curiously. The shop was shrouded in semi darkness, in keeping with the closed sign that was on the very much unlocked door. Big rolls of fabric were stacked to one side, and dressing rooms were on the other. A desk sat in the middle of it, and leaning against that desk was one Regina Mills.

“Emma,” she said, smiling. “Aside from Whale, are you alright?”

“I think you’d know that already,” Emma said boldly, stepping forward. “Since you’re the one with the mic and speaker on me.”

“I had to be sure,” Regina said semi-apologetically. “I needed to know you would be right for this job.”

“Judging from all the secrecy, it’s not just tailoring you have in mind for me, is it?” Emma asked. “Is it the same classified stuff as my dad was doing?”

Regina nodded. “Almost down to the letter,” she replied. “And I promise you, Emma, that letter is so very far from tailoring.”


	5. Four. - Training & Epmann

**Four. – Training & Epmann**

“Spies,” Emma said incredulously for the fourth time in a row. Regina at her, just as amused as the first time. “You’re an actual _spy_.” They were walking down deeper into the bunker, Emma gaping at the cars and planes she could see through the windows along there hallway when she wasn’t pestering Regina for answers. They’d travelled there in some kind of underground train shaped like a tube, and Emma had gaped at it the entire time

“Not technically, since we’re not actually directly answering to any government,” Regina answered. “But ‘spy’ is probably the closest word for us there is. Kingsman come from a long line of aristocrats whose sons died in World War One. A lot of money, and a lot of raging at the injustice of a perfectly preventable war, led to us. We’re here to make sure no such needless bloodshed happens again. The Kingsman are the new knights.”

They arrived at the door farthest down the hall, and Regina stopped. “This is where I leave you,” she said. “I can’t have any contact with you openly, since it’s supposed to be anonymous who put up what recruit, but you are free to come find me anywhere on this base after your regular training hours are over for the day.”

“What, and you don’t have your own spy thing to be doing?” Emma asked, half-jokingly.

Regina rolled her eyes. “Of course not,” she replied. “Not while selection is going on. Now go meet the other applicants.”

 

Of course, there were only two other recruits that she actually liked. Lance—fitting, considering they were all up for the position of Lancelot—was a tall black man with an easy smile that quickly turned to stone around the other three guys she’d interacted with. Killian, Neal, and Robin seemed to have become fast friends for having just met each other, and even five seconds in their presence Emma could tell why.

“Wait, don’t tell me,” Killian began when they’d finished snickering over her lack of a college education. “Did you serve me at a McDonalds in south London?” She’d never wanted to hit someone more.

“Ignore them,” said the second recruit that Emma liked—Mulan. “They’re all idiots.” Emma nodded, and went back to filling out the info on the body bag they’d given her. Mulan insisted them having the recruits fill it out was a scare tactic, and that no one was going to die. ‘They’ being Merlin, who apparently was this organization’s Q. He at least didn’t look like a teenager, as the Q in the newest Bond movie had. She felt a little better about trusting him with heavy artillery.

“You’re training starts tomorrow,” he’d said before leaving them to themselves. “And after that, you will embark on the most dangerous job interview in the world.” Cheerful man, Merlin.

 

Apparently, ‘training starts tomorrow’ meant ‘we’re going to try and kill you all at midnight sharp.’ She’d woken up to water already at bed level, and rising quickly. Somehow most of them had managed to survive, and she’d managed to figure out that the window on the opposite side from the door she’d come in was a double-sided one, and managed to smash it.

“Of course she did,” a surly Killian had said. “I bet she’d seen enough of them in her lifetime.” Neal and Robin laughed, and Lance looked ready to help her kick their teeth in.

“Laugh all you want,” Merlin said seriously. “But you’ve all failed, according to my book. You forgot the most important rule of all—teamwork.” He pointed back to the waterlogged room, and Emma’s blood ran cold. There, on the ground, was Mulan.

“So much for scare tactic,” muttered Lance.

 

“It’s fine that you don’t know who this is,” Gold said, slumped in the chair like he owned the place, rather than the man in front of him. He waved the photo around of the man Cruella had killed—stitched back together and cleaned off course. “I mean, it’s not _fine_ obviously, since there are violent vigilantes running around on this earth, but fine for you in this moment. I’ll find out who he’s working for eventually. Now, back to you. For _you_ I have a proposition that I think you’ll find very interesting.”

The President of the United States nodded slowly. He’d always liked Gold as a celebrity; he’d always seemed to have his head screwed on right. “I’m listening.”

 

Regina should have known this visit would go pear shaped. The perfectly fine Professor Epmann plus a dead body—killed by being sliced in half—would have told her that. Mulan—freshly back in the Merlin department after faking her death as a scare tactic—and her assortment of over-the-top artillery could have told her that. Still, she’d went in with reckless abandon, thankful to be on a mission close enough to home that she could still get back in time to see Emma. Merlin had told her how well the recruits had been doing, and how Emma was the top of her class. Something she pushed to the back of her mind as she snarled at the woman in front of her, “My colleague died because of your worthless hide, and if you don’t tell me who—oh stop whining, I’m barely touching you!” She twisted the ear she was holding for emphasis, and then Epmann’s head exploded.

She was close enough that her hearing went, and she stumbled around from that as much as the shock. _Epmann’s dead. Epmann’s head exploded. Epmann’s dead._

She didn’t have long to be in shock before two men in black stormed into the room. Thinking quickly—with what brain cells she still had functioning—she threw one of her hand grenades at them and jumped out the window. The explosion rocked both the building and her, so it threw her off course enough that she landed on her head instead of rolling on her shoulder. Regina managed to send out a signal for help to the Merlin department, before everything went white.

 

Emma came ran to the Kingsman hospital ward as soon as she could. It had been a day she thought would be fun—what with them getting to pick a puppy to train and all—that had quickly turned sour. Puppies, it turned out, were very hard to train. Mulish pugs were even harder to train than most. Lance—and his weapons sniffing poodle, fuck them both—had laughed at Emma’s attempts to get JB to run, or climb, or do any sort of exercise. This all after they’d had to go through a bomber that had called themselves the ‘Mad Hatter’ the previous week, and Emma had ended up on top but covered in slime.

It had been a relief when Merlin had come to get her about something ‘Regina-related’ and Emma had tried not to let herself seem too eager, still smiling the entire way inside. The smile was wiped off her face the second Merlin had said ‘mission’ and ‘injury’ and ‘coma,’ and Emma had taken off without him.

She skidded into the room, panting. Regina occupied the furthest bed on the left, and Emma headed straight towards it.

A high pitched voice saying, “Who are you?” stopped her in her tracks.

“Er, Emma,” she said cautiously to the boy sitting on Regina’s other side. Did Kingsman recruit for other positions early? “Who are you?”

“Henry,” he responded, looking at her with suspicion. “I’m Regina’s son.”

Emma gaped at him, then gaped at Merlin when he arrived seconds later. “I was going to warn you,” he grumbled. “Regina had an…unorthodox life before becoming Galahad. It’s something she tries to keep separate from dear Henry here, but sometimes things happen.”

“What things?” Emma demanded. Merlin looked at Henry pointedly, and he covered his own ears.

“Heads exploding,” Merlin said reluctantly. “From superheated somethings in a brain we can’t identify, from a signal so encrypted that all we can get is the Gold network, which is in every computer made since the 90s.”

“But Regina’s okay, right?” Emma demanded. “It’s just a medical coma you can bring her out of, right?”

“Not exactly,” Merlin said. “But she would want you to visit while she was here, and she would want you to know how proud she is of you. We’ll find out who’s behind this.”

“Good,” Emma said, making sure Henry’s ears were still covered. “Because when you do, I want to personally see to it that they get what’s coming to them.”


	6. Five. - Skydiving & Galas

**Five. SkyDiving & Galas**

“Well,” the Swedish Prime Minister said, extending his hand to shake Gold’s. “I think it’s time a politician actually did something, instead of making empty promises.” They smiled at each other, before the Prime Minister took notice of the face of the Swedish princess beside him. “What?”

“Have you lost your mind?” The screech nearly deafened both men. “Have you actually thought through what this plan is going to _do_ to people?” Zelena continued, hands waving wildly. “Even taking in consideration your hand in last year’s reforms, this is your worst idea ever!” She turned to Gold. “You will never have Sweden’s support with this!”

Gold sighed. He hated the ones that disagreed. They always led to more blood, in one way or another, and blood was his least favorite thing to deal with. “I do hope I can convince you that you’re making a mistake, dearie.”

She sneered, spitting out, “Never!” before stalking off from the table. Gold had the odd thought that the girl looked ridiculously like her mother when angry—not that Zelena would have ever known her mother, given that Gold himself had been there when said mother had been forced to give the girl up to the future prince. “Guards! We’re leaving!” Zelena’s voice carried in from the hallway.

“Cruella?” Gold asked, turning to his protegee. “If you would?” She gave him a feral grin in response, before bounding out the door, the knives on her prosthetics gleaming.

“I do hope you won’t mind,” Gold said to the Prime Minister as the screams started. “But I can’t actually allow her to leave.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” the Prime Minister said, toasting him. “Between you and me, I was always more of a republican, anyways.”

 

Emma practically skipped to the medical ward that day. _The final six!_ She thought. _She was in the final six_! Why her first urge was to tell that to an unconscious woman was something she didn’t actually want to think about. _Besides, maybe Henry will be back again today, and I can tell him!_

When she got to Regina’s door, though, it was open already, and there were voices coming from inside.

“…and it would probably be better if you kept at least _some_ of the files from your glasses decoded,” Emma recognized Merlin’s easy lilt, slightly amused with whoever he was talking to. “If only to save one of your only friends from the wrath of your damn mother.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” asked the second voice, tired and low but definitely one Emma recognized as—

“You’re awake!” Emma shouted, barreling into the room and nearly tackling Regina in a hug. Her brain then caught up with her body, and she awkwardly drew away. “Er, Galahad.”

Regina apparently lost all care for her treasured ‘propriety’ and tugged Emma back towards her, hugging her around her shoulders. “And _you_ made it to the six candidate round,” she responded with a smile. “Congratulations.”

Emma blushed harder. “Thanks,” she muttered, staring down at her toes. Regina continued smiling at her, and looked like she was about to say something else, before Merlin interrupted.

“Sorry to cut this reunion short,” he said to Emma. “But I did have classified information I needed to talk with Galahad about.”

“She can stay,” Regina responded, making both Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up before he controlled his features. Emma got the feeling recruits weren’t supposed to get that easy of an override. “She could learn something.”

“Yeah, sure,” Merlin eyed Regina over Emma’s head, which Regina pretended not to see, before turning to the screen on the other side of the ward. He tapped a few buttons on the clipboard he always carried with him, before swiping so the information on it jumped onto the bigger screen. “Epmann’s last moments.” It was a video, probably from Regina’s glasses—Emma, for better or for worse, would know that perfectly manicured hand anywhere. The hand was taking up half the screen, twisting some poor soul’s ear nearly clean off. They seemed to be in the middle of an interrogation, Regina’s voice hard as she alternated between berating the person for squealing under her ‘light’ touch and demanding answers. The person’s neck started to glow, and then—

“Fucking hell!” Emma yelped, covering her eyes a moment too late. She peeked out from under her hands to gape at Regina. “You blew up her head? Isn’t that a little too far?”

“I did no such thing,” Regina growled, at the same time Merlin said, “Not quite.”

He rewound the footage, creeping forward until the glow in Epmann’s neck was just starting. “The explosion came from an implant just under her neck,” he told them. “We, unfortunately, have no idea what it was or what caused it to go off. We don’t even know who made it—all we get when we trace it back is Gold Enterprises public network.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty generous for a genius,” Emma said offhand. It took her a minute to realize Merlin and Regina had stopped and were staring at her. “Did…did you not hear his announcement today?” They shook their head, and Emma held out her hand for Merlin’s tablet. She only half succeeded in keeping the smile off her face at being useful in an actual mission, not just a test. Quickly, she googled Gold’s speech that day, and put it on the screen.

Gold rambled on for a good two minutes before getting to the point, making Emma bounce on the balls of her feet. “…and what that means is,” he said as he finally got to the point. “Free calls. Free internet. For everyone. Forever.” The crowd went wild. Even the assistant at the podium turned an clapped. Merlin paused the video just as she was turning, blowing up her  neck to take up the full screen, and all Emma’s excitement about free internet drained out of her in favor of cold dread.

“That scar look familiar to you?” Merlin turned to Regina and asked.

“Looks like there is indeed no rest for the wicked,” Regina quipped. “Looks like I’m paying Mister Gold a visit.”

“Can I—”

“No!” Both Merlin and Regina cut her off. Regina sighed, though, at Emma’s dejected look, reaching out and lifting her chin. “You’ll have missions like this soon, Emma. Just be patient.”

Emma shrugged. “Okay,” she said, smiling in spite of herself at Regina’s imploring look.

“I, for one, think your next test is perfect to take your mind off things.” Merlin grinned at Emma. “You’ll even forget it’s not a real mission, with how much fun you’re having.” Emma smiled back. Fun. She could do fun.

 

Skydiving.

Skydiving was Merlin’s idea of _fun_. Skydiving, specifically, when one of the team didn’t have a parachute. Lance was freaking out openly the entire way down—the only test she’d seen him openly freak out on. All of the pomp, and it turned out Emma herself was the one without the parachute. Even with beating, with outright _winning_ the challenge, she was livid.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Emma demanded after the bottom three were dismissed. “Am I the expendable candidate because I don’t have a silver spoon up my ass, or—”

“No,” Merlin cut her off, and Lance and Hook, the remaining two with her, disappeared. “You don’t backtalk me in front of the entire group; you have a complaint, you say it in my ear and no one knows what’s wrong.”

Emma stalked up to him, fully intending to give him a piece of her mind, and then Merlin pulled the string on her pack. A full functioning parachute expanded, yanking her back from Merlin with a ridiculous yelp.

“A word of advice, Emma,” Merlin said from where he was still standing. “Not everyone in the world is Cora. It would do you well to get the chip off your shoulder.”

 

Regina knew her cover was blown the second she stepped out of the vehicle. The entire courtyard was deserted, and she suspected the cars present all belonged to Gold himself, and not to the guests of the gala she was supposedly attending. The dress she was wearing seemed to tighten as she moved to the front door. It was the best material, supposedly able to stand up to the same amount of punishment a Kingsman suit could take (said Tamara, as Mulan rolled her eyes in the background), but she would still prefer a bespoke suit to this. ‘This’ was supposed to make her look like the rich, money swindling American mayor she was pretending to be, visiting England just in time for the gala.

There was a very real chance now that this cover would be wholly useless.

“Hello, Madame Mayor,” the doorman said, nodding to her as he opened the door. She smiled back, doing her best to seem disdainful at the same time.

The hallway was deserted, except for one girl hurrying across it to somewhere probably on the other side of the mansion she was in. Regina made sure her glasses got a good look at the file she was carrying before taking her in. She was young, with her hair in pigtails, one black and one blonde. Regina did a double take when she saw from the knees down the girl was just two huge stilt knives.

She walked slowly to the dining room, where of course, the infamous Gold had the table all to himself, lounging at the head of it. “Madame Mayor!” he said joyfully, making absolutely no move to go and greet her. “So glad you could join me!”

“I do remember signing on for a gala, Mister Gold,” Regina said, ignoring his question. She slid carefully into the seat on his right.

“Oh, _that_ ,” he said condescendingly, never losing his smile. “Well, there _was_ one, but I knew I just had to have the person donating so much money all to myself, at least for the night.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she demurred, toasting him then miming taking a drink. He gave a frankly horrifying high pitched giggle, before continuing to stare at her. Just as the silence was getting uncomfortable, the assistant with the pigtails rolled in a lavish looking covered tray. She lifted the lid, and Regina barely stopped herself from reacting at the sight of her favorite fast food. Burgers and fries and packets of sauce, all probably with enough problems to take down a person much bigger than herself.

“Exactly as you ordered,” she curtseyed, stilts clanging on the hardwood floor by them before leaving.

Gold immediately dug in, and when it looked like he wasn’t coming up for air any time soon, Regina cautiously took a box of fries. She nearly moaned at the taste—it was terrible, but addictive, and she hadn’t had it in years.

“Do you like spy movies?” Gold asked with a knowing glint in his eyes. Regina immediately put the fries down, going into high alert.

“The classic Bond films were my favorite,” she responded, though it was complete bullshit. She almost never watched movies about her job and the last movie she could remember seeing with espionage was the movie _‘Spy_.’ “But as a child I thought they were only as good as the villains.”

“Really,” Gold giggled. “I always wanted to be the dashing hero in those films. The villains never interested me as much as the heroes as a kid.”

“Shame we had to grow up,” Regina said.

Gold giggled, and his eyes bore into her, making Regina feel like a scared child again. “What a shame indeed, dearie.”

 

“Give me some good news,” Regina demanded, walking into the observation room. Three hours with Gold and she had nothing—she instead felt like he’d been toying with her the entire time. She was back in her best suit and shoes as comfort, and, strangely enough, wanted to see Emma. Emma, something in her felt, would calm her.

Mal turned to look at her, while Cora continued to ignore her, eyes glued to the screen with her recruit on it. Killian, Regina thought his name was. He was being interviewed by Lamorak. “Merlin’s the one whose got your little thing tied to the traintracks,” she muttered when Regina got close enough, so Cora wouldn’t hear. “He’s hamming it up, it’s actually funny to watch.” Mal turned back to the screen, but kept her eyes on her own recruit, Lance, being interrogated by Bors.

The train tracks was Regina’s favorite test: it was a classic gag, tying someone captured to the tracks to get them to tell you what you wanted. In this case, if was heavily-makeup-ed Kingsman demanding the recruits give up the information they have to some fake shador organization.

“Galahad, Percival, be quiet,” Cora demanded, and both of them automatically snapped to attention.

They were all quiet in time to hear Killian shout, “No it bloody well isn’t worth it!” and begin to spill his guts about his (slightly above average, and Regina eyed her mother in suspicion before turning back to the screen) knowledge of the Kingsman history.

Cora swore, stalking out of the room before Lamorak revealed himself and told Killian he’d failed. Regina and Mal kept their eyes on the screen. Lance’s train was slightly faster, and he gave one last low, biting reply to Bors before leaning back and accepting his fate. Three seconds later, after being lowered into the ground to protect him from the train, he rose back up with one of the most comical expressions of shock on his face that Regina had ever seen.

“Congratulations,” Bors said, makeup peeled off now. “You passed.” Mal gave an aborted shout, grinning with unchecked pride at her screen, at the recruit she’d grown so attached to.

Emma, in true Emma fashion, didn’t do anything by halves. “ _Fuck you!_ ” she shouted, continuing on the ‘you’ until the train slid over her.

Both Regina and Mal screamed with joy. Mal actually hugged her. “No matter what,” Mal said. “Whichever one of the candidates makes it past the next test, Cora will have to see reason.”

“Yeah,” Regina said breathlessly, thinking of the look of Emma in a bespoke suit. “She will."


	7. Six. - Family & JB

**Six. Family & JB**

“Okay,” Emma says not ten minutes into the trip. “I know you want to be really secretive and stuff, but can you give me a _hint_?”

The very last test, the one that made Regina tense with worry, was in a little over twenty-four hours. The Kingsman, per tradition, were supposed to be spending those twenty four hours training their recruits on everything they knew and learned and thought was _vital_ to whatever this last test was. Naturally, Regina had kidnapped Emma the second she’d gotten her back from the debriefing about the train test. They were in a Kingsman car now, winding through the outskirts of London, clearly headed out of town. Emma was in her sorely-missed red jacket and jeans, and Regina was in a dress. The dress still somehow managed to look like a suit, but it was something.

“No, Emma,” Regina told her, smiling. She seemed to relax the further they got from the shop, her shoulders dropping and her smile brightening. She seemed to relax completely when they pulled into the driveway of a mansion pressed deep into the woods. They got out of the car, and Emma was saved from having to ask again where they were when a small blur shot out the front door, flinging itself into Regina’s arms and shouting, “Mama, Mama!”

“Henry!” Regina answered him, twirling him around and around in a way that made Emma ache for her own childhood. “Oh, I’ve missed you!” She lowered him to the ground, and he ran over to Emma.

Emma tried to pick him up like Regina had, but children were surprisingly heavy, and she nearly dropped him twice before getting a good grip on him. “Heya, kid,” she said, grinning at him.

“Hi, Emma!” he giggled, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and squeezing tight. “Mom, you brought Emma for Cookie Day?”

“Cookie day?” Emma asked hopefully, eyes as big as Henry’s.

“Cookie day,” Regina confirmed.

Cookie Day was as elaborate and as sugar filled as one would imagine, and it was the most fun Emma had had since before Whale. Batch after batch of cookies were made, during which movies were watched and they all sang along to the radio, and got flour _everywhere_.

“Don’t worry,” Henry whispered when he caught her vigorously swiping at her shirt while Regina was out grabbing an extra towel. “Mom says it doesn’t matter if you look like an old wookie on Cookie Day.” He frowned. “She also says ‘looks don’t matter’ if you like-like someone. Do you like-like my mom?” Emma had turned beet ret just as Regina had walked back into the room.

“Your son is a menace,” was all she’d said, flicking flour at said menace and enjoying his shriek and Regina’s laugh. Regina’s face lit up with this laugh, joyful and completely unguarded. Emma suddenly clearly saw herself kissing Regina, on a day just like this, with this feeling of safety and home that filled every corner of the house. _Someday_ , she thought with conviction as she watched the joy and love for Henry on Regina’s face. _When I’m officially a Kingsman_.

Now, they were sprawled across the couch, barely awake. Henry had been put to bed two hours ago, and Emma was starting to think she should’ve gone with him. Apparently, consuming this much sugar was very tiring.

“You know why I brought you here don’t you?” Regina asked suddenly, breaking the silence. When Emma didn’t respond, she continued. “Henry is my light, and one of the main reasons I work so hard to keep the world safe. You need to find that same reason to keep the world safe, and hold onto it tomorrow.” She sounded half asleep already.

Emma remembered responding with a halfhearted “’Kay,” before passing out completely.

 

The bell jingled the exact same way it did the first time Emma walked in the shop, and yet everything looked different. She held herself different, she saw the shop different (six weapons hidden within ten feet of her, and another five in the next ten feet), and even the very air felt different.

“Mulan!” Emma shouted when she finally noticed who was behind the counter. She ran over to hug her friend, before punching her in the shoulder. “Faking your death is a dick move, you know that right?”

“Eh, you all turned out fine, didn’t you?” Mulan responded, smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She turns to Regina, who hung back by the door. “She here for a suit?”

Regina smiled proudly. “Her very first.”

Mulan winced. “Well I’ll take your measurements out here, but fitting room one is occupied. You might have to use fitting room two.” She smirked, like she knew the suggestion would offend Regina

As probably expected, Regina scoffed. “I will not use fitting room _two_ for someone’s first time. Is three repaired?”

“Just barely,” Mulan responded, then smirked at Emma. “You’re in luck, Swan.”

“I’m honored,” Emma said with a straight face. Mulan snorted, smacking her arm.

“Idiot,” Regina said fondly, walking over to one of the doors on their left. “You should be. Follow me.”

Emma shrugged, then jogged after Regina. She nearly ran into her when she got through the door, expecting there to be a lot more room than there was. The fitting room looked, disappointingly, exactly as a fitting room should.

“Are we in the right place?” Emma asked dubiously.

Regina smiled at her confusion. “Of course,” she said. She motioned at the wall in front of them. “Pull the hook on your left.”

Emma did, and her confusion turned to glee as the wall swung open, revealing a gleaming room, packed to the brim with what she assumed were gadgets of al kind, all polished to a dull shine or accented in silvers and chrome. The wall directly across from them was partially pushed in, displaying a terrifying array of guns.

“Oh, this,” Emma said grinning. “This I like.”

Regina pointed to the bottom shelf on the left wall, holding an array of shoes. “Do you see your size in the oxfords?” Emma wordlessly went over and grabbed the pair in her size (because of course they had her size), putting them on. “Now click your heels, like your Dorothy.”

Emma did, and swore when a small shiny blade clicked out from the toe of her shoe. “What the _hell_?”

“A nice backup weapon to have,” Regina told her. “Coated with the deadliest poison known to man. Do be gentle pushing it back in,” she continued as Emma hastily pushed the blade back into her shoe using the wood lining the bottom of the shelf.

Emma walked over to the left wall, and picked up one of the small gold boxes and pens displayed there. “And what do these do?” she asked, picking one up and bouncing it in her hand. “Electrocute you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Regina said, snatching it from her hand. “It’s a hand grenade.” Emma took a step back. “And this,” Regina continued, picking up one of the pens, “Is one of our finest achievements in chemical engineering. It’s a remote activated poison. The ink itself you can trick anyone to ingesting, then take your sweet time flipping the switch to kill them.” Regina looked entirely too entertained as she flipped the switch on the side of the pen.

Emma looked around for another interesting gadget, then pointed to another shelf. “What about them? What makes them so special?” she asked, pointing at the display of smartphones.

“Nothing, actually,” Regina said, considering them. Emma, while she wasn’t looking, picked up one of the tiny grenades and slipped it into her pocket. It’d be useful to have if she didn’t make the cut. “Technology has just caught up with our world. Come on. Mulan’s probably ready to take your measurements.” She turned to go with Emma following close behind, Emma only being stopped by Regina’s sharp, “Put it back!” Emma groaned, but put the grenade back.

Emma nearly ran into Regina a second time, just outside the door, where Regina had stopped and was staring at the person who’d come out of fitting room one.

“Madam Mayor!” Gold said gleefully, adjusting the pins on his cuffs. “I just had to find out where you get your clothing from, so I did a little snooping, if you’ll forgive me. And who is this?” Gold zeroed in on Emma, and Emma fought the urge to hide behind Regina.

“Just my new assistant,” Regina answered for her, glaring at Gold. “I was just showing her the ropes.”

“Interesting,” Gold said genially. “So was I.” Sharp stainless steel stilts clicked on the floor as said assistant stepped out from behind Gold. She was smaller than Emma, but seemed to take up a lot more space with how she carried herself. Her eyes didn’t stay on any one thing, but moved around to take in everything, even when they were seemingly focusing in on Emma. She had no doubt the girl could likely kill everyone in the room.

“Come along, Cruella,” Gold said, cutting the tension in the room as he walked to the door. “We do have errands to run before we catch our plane.”

“Gold,” Regina called after him. “If you were looking for a top hat to match your new smoking jacket, Millstone’s, just down the stree, might have something for you.”

“Millstone’s, you say?” he asked, smiling like he knew exactly what Regina was trying to do. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Finally, he left.

“I’ll tell Tamara to put a tracking device in that hat, then?” Mulan asked, already moving towards the phone.

“Yes, please,” Regina said distractedly. “Call Merlin, as well. I want to know exactly where that plane is going.” She turned to Emma. “Drama aside, are you ready to get your first bespoke Kingsman suit, Emma?”

“It can’t be worse than whatever the final test is, can it?” she said.

Regina actually snorted. “It’s significantly better than that. Even so, you’ll excel with both.”

 

Emma, in short, did _not_ excel at the final test. She was probably the worst failure on Kingsman record at this point. Not shooting your own pet on command was something she had absolutely no interest in worrying about, but threatening to shoot the person who ordered you to do it? That person being Arthur? And then stealing the company car to try and run as fast as you could away from your failure? _That_ was probably the worst thing to ever happen to Kingsman.

The car’s controls, of course, had been hijacked the second she reached city limits. Emma’s stomach filled more and more with lead as she recognized the winding road the car was being directed down, and she wanted to sink into the ground when she saw Regina waiting for her on her front doorstep, twirling her glasses in her hand.

“You throw away your best chance,” Regina starts before Emma’s even fully out of the car. “Over a fucking dog. You then humiliate me by stealing one of our cars to—what? Run away?” She sneered.

Emma was suddenly filled with anger. “You _shot_ a dog just to get a fucking job?” she demanded.

Regina growled. “Yes, I did.” She grabbed Emma’s collar and dragged her into the house. Emma barely had time to note Henry’s absence from the downstairs before she was shoved in front of the pantry door. “I did, and Rocinante reminds me of that fact every time I want a goddamn midnight snack!” There, on the very top shelf, was a massive dog, body frozen in death and posed proudly.

“You…you killed your dog just to get a _job_?” Emma struggled not to let her voice raise, conscious of the fact that Henry might still be in the house and hating the idea of him hearing shouting coming from somewhere in his house like she had to for all of high school. “And then you had him stuffed? You evil bitch!”

“No, I shot him,” Regina corrected, and continued before Emma could. “I shot him, and then I took him home and continued to care for him until he died of a heart attack not two years ago.”

Emma deflated. “What?”

“It was a blank.” Regina’s fury was apparent, but more cutting was the disappointment under that. “Emma, it was a _blank_. I’d just taken you to see Mulan to remind you of the fact that while we must test your limits, we’d _never_ put an innocent life in danger.”

“What, my dad wasn’t innocent enough for you?” Emma wanted to take the words back the second they came out of her mouth, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say as Regina’s face hardened in front of her.

Neither of them could get another word in, as Regina’s glasses beeped. Hastily, she put them on. “Yes, Merlin?” Emma caught bits and pieces of their conversation, hearing things like ‘test run’ and ‘church’ from it. Finally, Regina took them off again. “When I get back, we will continue this,” she said, looking at Emma imploringly. “But please, you _must_ at least try to work with me to salvage a position for you with us. I would—your skills are much too invaluable.”

“Yeah, okay,” Emma muttered, forcing herself not to ask what Regina was going to say. “Can I stay and watch your mission on Merlin's livestream, and we’ll eat more of the cookies when you get back?”

Regina’s face softened, and Emma thought she had a chance of salvaging her ruined reputation in Regina’s eyes, even if her plans from the night before had been thoroughly trashed. “Of course.”


	8. Seven. - Take Me To Church

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the church scene. The outline I had writing this is at the end if anyone wants to skip the chapter entirely. For those that are on the fence: if you can watch the Walking Dead calmly while enjoying your dinner, then you're probably good to go. Other than that, use extreme caution. ADDITIONAL TRIGGER WARNING: racist, antisemitic, and homophobic slurs on the part of the preacher.

**Seven. – Take Me to Church**

Regina regretted leaving almost immediately. Despite the fact that some of her critiques of Emma’s character were valid, those were just the dressings on a dish that was little more than blaming Emma for not singlehandedly proving Cora wrong. The girl was amazing, but Regina shouldn’t have expected so much of her, even subconsciously. It was a poor way to say goodbye, especially for a mission as big as this one. Gold was a formidable opponent, and even if Regina could apologize enough to persuade Emma to stay a Kingsman in some other capacity than a knight, she likely wouldn’t be able to see her for months until this blew over.

‘This’ was currently taking her to the Heller’s Church of Christ, hidden out in a tiny coastal town in the American state of Maine. Even without Gold’s attention on it, it would have become conspicuous to some sort of authority soon, given that its patterns over the last six months had begun to mirror those of churches whose spiritual journeys ended in mass murder-suicide.

“Are you sure Gold wasn’t fixated on a slightly…larger church?” Regina asked dubiously, eyeing the cabin-like structure rising out of the woods before her.

“Positive,” Merlin’s voice came through loud and clear from the temple of her glasses. “Emma also confirmed the pastor is the one whose videos went viral. Emma’s listening on the livestream, isn’t she?” _Smug bastard_ , Regina thought. Even with Emma’s failure of the last test, he was still needling her about the recruit. _And using the fact that his end got cut out of any streaming, to boot_.

“Yes,” she snapped, following with, “this _does_ mirror the architecture of Gold’s home in Wales, Merlin,” for the confusion Emma would have had at her talking to no one. She checked her appearance in the hand mirror Merlin and Mulan had crafted within. A thin blouse and a thick skirt that extended from her ribs to below her knees were her only protection this day, and her makeup particularly unflattering. Mulan’s wife, a girl by the name of Aurora who worked in their chemical warfare department, had made the makeup so she looked much more like her mother than normal.

The place was crowded already, and everyone seemed to know each other. Within seconds, every eye was on her as she took her seat. The heat of the room seemed to increase by at least five degrees, and remained that way until the preacher took the stage. Regina tuned out most of what he was saying, looking around for something—anything—to show that Gold had been here. There was nothing, of course, because life hated her. She sighed, and tuned back into the sermon.

“…Jew, nigger, fag-lovers, and the devil is burning them for all eternity!” Heller finished with a flourish, before starting in again. Regina’s stomach turned. There was no way in hell she was staying for the full thing, and nothing Cora could theoretically say could make her stay.

“Will you excuse me?” she whispered to the one lady between her and the aisle, making to get up.

“Where you going?” the lady asked, eyeing her suspiciously. It occurred to Regina that it was considered rude to get up while someone was giving any sort of speech. It also occurred to her that she didn’t care. A low whine began in the back of her mind. _A migraine, probably_ , she thought. She moved to push past the woman, before the woman physically blocked her way by grabbing the pew in front of them.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” she demanded, outright distrustful now. The whining grew louder. Regina sat back down, taking a deep breath to fight off the urge to just shoot her way out of this.

“I’m a Catholic whore,” she began calmly, enjoying the horrified look on the woman’s face at that, “currently enjoying congress out of wedlock with my black, Jewish girlfriend who works in a military abortion clinic. So Hail Satan, and have a lovely afternoon, madam.”

She managed to make it only a couple feet down the aisle before the woman got up and started shouting after her. The whine in the back of her head nearly drowned her out, and Regina vaguely thought she should tell Merlin to fix what was obviously a bug in some new code in the glasses he made, before all thought seemed to melt from her entirely. Regina slowed down, the world going out of focus.

“…and you leave this church, leave like the infidel you are!” the woman screamed, tears streaming down her face. “God cannot save you now! You will eat your babies, you will drown in the blood of the Lord!” The whine reached a fever pitch, then broke, and suddenly she could see clearly again.

She turned around and shot the woman square between the eyes.

The church was dead silent for a moment, before all hell broke loose. At least six people dove at her, and Regina slid on her knees under the still-falling body in front of her to shoot the very next person she sees. She can hear Emma in her ear shouting, and Merlin demanding to know what’s going on, but she ignores him and goes on with a savage glee.

Regina continues sliding down the aisle, sliding and using the previous body as she shoots the next person. Someone hits her in the back with a wooden she thinks might have been a part of a pew before she shoots them too. Someone else had managed to break one of the poles into an interesting-looking stake, but they didn’t manage to get within five feet before she shot them too. That’s when she ran out of bullets, and things got even more blood-soaked and the world went hazy again.

She remembers breaking a candle holder over someone’s head, tossing someone into the piano hard enough to break their back, and driving three people onto a pole and spearing said pole into one of the columns like a kabob. She might have stabbed multiple people. She knows, with the bright certainty of flashbulb memory, that she drove the last remaining pike under Heller’s neck and through his skull. Heller’s weapon of choice, an axe, made a dull thud as it dropped to the floor.

And then—

And then, her own mind came back online. She stumbled away from the bodies in front of her, a hand clutching her stomach and nearly tripping on the other dead bodies behind her. Numbly she looked around, seeing, actually _seeing_ the blood and death that was in the church for the first time, and gagging. _Out_ , Regina’s brain supplied. _Get out, find Gold, find out_ why.

“Merlin,” she managed to choke out, stumbling to the door blindly and shoes slipping on the floor.  “Where’s Gold? His private jet dropped him off in the state, he _has_ to be here.” He had to; there was no way those people had killed each other—that _Regina_ had killed all those people—on a whim.

It was only when she got to the main doors that she realized Merlin hadn’t responded. Static was the only thing in her ear. Someone was blocking her signal—someone with the power and intelligence to get around Kingsman tech without ever having encountered it before.

She squared her shoulders, letting calm anger sweep away any grief and guilt she might have had, and pushed open the doors of the church.

“Mr. Gold,” she greeted with a smile to match his one of boyish glee. Her teeth, she could feel, were stained with blood. Cruella stood at his shoulder, and they were flanked by four armed guards with machine guns trained on her. Gold himself was holding a gun, twirling it in his hands. “What a pleasure to see you. I’m afraid it ended a bit early though; you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“I would indeed,” Mr. Gold said, his smile growing. “Thank you for participating in my little experiment, dearie. It was one hundred percent effective.”

Regina eyed the guns. “Is this the part where you give away your plan, then come up with a ridiculously complicated way to trap me?”

“And then you come up with an equally complicated way to escape?” Gold laughed, his eyes flicking to the heavens. “Tsk, tsk, dearie. I thought we agreed that this wasn’t that kind of movie.” And then he shot her, eyes still on the clouds, and everything went dark.

 

Emma’s scream was still ringing in her own ears when she heard tiny feet pounding on the stairs. Quickly, she slammed the computer shut and scrubbed furiously at her eyes, just in time as Henry came bounding into his mother’s study in the next second.

“What happened?” he demanded. “Mom said she had to go on a trip for the shop, so why are you still here? Where’s mom?”

Emma shook with the force of not collapsing outright in front of him. “Your mom’s trip just got a bit…hairy, is all.” She attempted a smile. “Told her she wouldn’t get far without me.”

Arthur. She had to go tell Arthur what happened, and then beg to at least be kept up to date with how they handled it. Arthur, no matter the relationship she’d had with Regina, had just lost her daughter. “I get to go help her, now. That was just me yelling with my excitement at that.”

Henry clearly wasn’t buying a word she said, but asked “Promise?” anyway, holding out a fist with pinky finger extended.

“I promise,” Emma said, taking the pinky finger in her own and feeling like absolute shit the entire time.

She went to the shop on autopilot, making her way through empty, dark hallways to the room where she knew they would just have had a toast to Regina. Regina, who was dead. Regina, who she hadn't kissed. Regina, who’d promised they’d sort everything out when she got back. _She promised_! Emma thought, feeling a childish sense of betrayal at the thought that the promise would have to be broken.

She pushed open the door, surprised but not to find Arthur still there, tie undone and staring at to small glasses. Arthur looked up in surprise. “Emma,” she gasped, voice hoarse. “I was just going to have Merlin call you. I regret to inform you that Galahad—”

“Regina’s dead, I know,” Emma mumbled. “I watched the whole thing on her feed at her house.”

“Ah,” Arthur managed. There was no way she wasn’t drawing all sorts of conclusions about why Emma had been there, but Emma really couldn’t give less of a damn. “Drink?” Arthur continued, waving her hands at the glasses in front of her. Emma blinked, before warily nodding, coming to sit on Arthur’s right. She pushed one of the drinks towards her. “I may not have approved of you as Regina’s candidate, but you’ve more than proven yourself. She would have wanted this, for both herself and for future generations.” Arthur smiled, tilting her head and the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck stood on end. A vivid pink scar flashed at Emma from just behind her ear. “I might even pick you for my candidate this time. Shake things up in Kingsman in the way Regina would have wanted, perhaps?”

She reached for the glass in front of her, and Emma pointed at the portrait behind her. “They all Kingsman, on the wall there?” she asked, heart in her throat. If she was wrong, then there was nothing to worry about. If she was right, then she had a 50/50 chance of dying tonight and dooming everyone on the planet.  Cora turned her head, and Emma switched their drinks.

“Oh, mostly,” she said, turning back to Emma and waving a hand dismissively. “The bigger, older ones are of our founders, whom we could not have built what we have without.” She rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers. “You know, Emma, if I do take you on as a candidate, there will have to be certain things we have to agree on. I’m well aware of the fact that some good can come from the lower class—your proof of that, of course—but there are some things that must stay true to the traditions set forth. Regina would have wanted it, no matter what she said about change. To Regina.” Emma echoed her, toasting, and they both downed their drinks. Emma prayed she’d gotten this right.

“I have to say I disagree with you about what Regina would have wanted,” Emma began, heart in her throat. “And with that in mind, I would like to respectfully say: get stuffed, you old bat.”

Arthur chuckled, pulling out the pen Emma had been ninety percent certain she’d had. “Oh, Emma,” she sighed condescendingly. “You could have been great.” She flicked the switch on the side of the pen.

For a moment, nothing happened, and then Cora’s entire body seized up, and Emma’s sagged in relief.

“One thing you always gotta watch out for with these lower class types,” Emma said, picking up both glasses and twirling them in one hand, putting down the unpoisoned one right back where it had been in front of Cora. “They have really sticky fingers. And they just might be smart enough to realize someone is a backstabbing dick working for Gold.”

Emma reached into Cora’s pocket, pulling out her phone, seeing what she thought: a countdown screen to something called 'G Day' with fireworks hovering around it. She thought back to the church and the test trial Gold's notes had been leading up to for months, and her stomach dropped to her feet. She took out her pocket knife and roughly jammed it into Arthur’s neck, wiggling until she got the chip out. Finally, Emma leaned in close to whisper in Cora’s ear as she gasped her last lungfuls of air. “She was your _daughter_ , you asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10\. Regina goes to a church service and gets about as far as ‘jew n***** f*** lovers’ getting up to leave; then the Gold turns on the wifi chips and everyone starts killing everyone else  
> a. Evil Plan: entire population (within range of SIM card’s reach) goes into a murderous rage and people start fighting and killing everyone (thus reducing the population)  
> b. Regina goes out to church courtyard where Gold is waiting and Gold shoots Regina while looking away then they leave  
> c. Toast to Regina with other Kingsman while Emma freaks out in Regina’s home, then she goes to see Arthur/Cora alone; Arthur reveals she’s sided with Valentine; Emma turns Cora’s plan to kill her around and kills Cora with her own remote activated poison


	9. Eight. - Eat, Drink, and Party!

**Eight. – Eat, Drink, And Party!**

“Lower your gun, Lancelot,” Merlin said tiredly, a look of betrayed exhaustion overtaking his usual easy smile. “Both the phone and the chip are real. The phone is even still receiving alerts about getting to safety.”

Lancelot lowered his gun, then pulled Emma into near bone crushing hug. “This job would’ve been boring without you, you know,” he said, drawing back and smiling down at her.

“Well, I can’t stay,” Emma said, even though everything in her wanted to. “I just came to report, then let you do your Kingsman thing.” She turned to Merlin. “Who’re you giving this to, anyway? Since Arthur’s compromised, is there anyone—”

“There’s no one that he would have left out,” Merlin cut her off. “And those foreign dignitaries that are M.I.A. we thought weren’t related? I think I have a good idea where they are, if the ones that agreed with Gold were let back out. We’re going to have to go directly to the source, and take Gold head on.”

“Wait, whoa, _how_ exactly would we do that?” Emma demanded. “Gold would shoot us before we made it within ten miles of where he is!”

Merlin’s signature grin stayed off his face, but he looked newly determined once he heard Emma’s question. “Follow me,” he said, taking off deeper into the bunker.

 

“The fuck is this?” Lancelot demanded, his voice not carrying over the engines of the Kingsman plane. Merlin had ushered them on, hurling in a few heavy bags in after them, then climbed into the front to take off. The ‘this’ Lancelot was referring to was a huge yellow bulky thing poking out of one of the bags, with rubber tubes and old digital screens all over it. Emma shrugged.

“What you’re playing with is a prototype from the Star Wars program, back in the day,” Merlin said, walking back into the room with them. Lancelot visibly tensed at having no one control the plane, though Emma had tried to convince him that autopilot was perfectly safe. Considering what they were flying into, Emma had to agree with him. “It’s a trans-atmospheric vehichle. It’s a bit old school, but it should work.”

“Work for what?” Emma asked.

“We’re going to blow up one of Gold’s satellites,” Merlin said, his glee almost returning. “Well, Lancelot is.”

“Why me,” Lancelot muttered, looking heavenward and motioning like he was praying even with the bit of bulky yellow vehicle still in hand.

“Emma’s the only one who can do this next bit,” he said with a little bit of apology. “Neither of us would fit the description of the previous Arthur, don’t you think?” Both of them snorted. “Lancelot, you blowing up one of his satellites would give me just enough time for Emma to get me into Gold’s mainframe and shut him down.”

“And I guess I won’t be doing that from the ground, will I?” he asked wryly.

“Nope,” Merlin grinned at him, going to sit at the desk he had in the back of the plane, picking up the chip Emma had picked out of Cora’s head. “Interestingly enough, those chips? Gold probably got people to wear them when he told them they blocked the signal of his homicidal SIM cards.”

“They don’t?” Emma asked.

“Oh they do—they also superheat your flesh enough to kill you, probably if you betray Gold in some way. Probably not something he’d shared.”

“And how does that help us now?” Lancelot asked, tense now at the thought of going up in the air.

“It doesn’t,” Merlin said, putting the chip down and going back to the front. “Both of you, suit up. Time to stop the end of the world!”

 

Emma tentatively put on the Kingsman issue glasses, grinning at her reflection through their heads-up display. She pressed the left temple closer to her ear. “How’s the view?” she asked.

“Horrible,” Lancelot responded. He was valiantly going for a joking tone, but sounded terrified. She would too, if she was going up in the air with only two glorified balloons as her transport.

“Mines pretty awesome,” she bragged. The red of her shirt gleamed against the white of the suit, and the gold accents made her look just as impressive as Regina had when she’d first met her. “They make you one of these suits yet?”

“No.” His voice was still shaking, but seemed a bit more firm.

“Then you’ve got something to look forward to.” She looked out the dressing room window. “We’re coming up on Gold’s base. Gotta go, Lance; good luck!”

Hesitantly, Emma stepped out of the dressing room, and straightened at Merlin’s approving gaze. “She’d be proud,” he told her after a stretch of silence. Emma ducked her head, not wanting him to see her eyes water.

Slowly, they began their descent. “This is November 108 Charlie Kado, requesting permission to land,” Merlin said. Emma looked around his shoulder.

“Permission granted,” Emma could hear from Merlin’s headset.

“Fuck me,” she muttered, looking at what the heads-up display was showing her awaited her. The base was crawling with hostiles, and every surface seemed to be covered in weapons.

“Yup,” Merlin told her. “Let’s do this.”

 

They got into the base perfectly fine, Merlin posing as her valet as she posed as Cora Mills. An assistant led her through a hallway lined with prisons. She struggled to keep a calm face as she heard people begging for help from inside. For some reason, all she could picture was Regina.

The hallway led to a lavish room, fit to hold at least two hundred people. Gold’s secluded section was embedded in the cave wall some ways up, glass plated on the front. It was perfect to watch all the people he now controlled. Emma looked around for someone who might be connected to Gold’s network. The Swedish Prime minister was an easy target, laptop out in a secluded booth and unsurprisingly trusting, considering he let a madman tinker with his neck. Emma quietly pushed his body further into the booth, inserting the USB Merlin gave her and praying it no surprises came up like they did in the regular spy movies.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he said, “I’m in.” She started to get up, but then a steak knife was pressed to her throat.

“Get up, nice and slow, love,” Killian Jones whispered into her ear, guiding her to her feet. She held her hands up.

“How the fuck are you here?” she growled, thinking fast about the weapons she had on her.

“My family was invited, of course,” he said smugly, and Emma curled her lip in disgust. _Of course_. “Hey, Gold! I caught a fucking spy!” he shouted. _Well there goes my quiet escape_ , Emma thought, and jammed her signet ring into the side of his skull. He dropped the knife, body convulsing with the force of the electricity she’d sent through him and dropping to the floor.

Alarms blared as she jumped over tables and vaulted off heads and shoulders to propel herself towards the door. Armed guards chased after her almost immediately. She managed to duck their initial spray of bullets, diving in a doorway. Of course, almost immediately more armed guards popped up in front of her.

“Emma, left!” Merlin shouted in her ear, and she kicked out their legs and slid under the guards to run left. “Lancelot has launched the missile, just get yourself back to the plane!”

She ran on instinct, punching anything in white and somehow dodging bullets. She could hear Merlin coaching Lancelot through unlatching from the yellow deathtrap he’d strapped him into. The hallway in front of her suddenly filled with guards, and she didn’t even think before launching herself over them, pulling out her gun and shooting each in the head. _Why I didn’t do that before I have no idea._ She shot the rest of the guards in her way from then on.

Emma rounded the corner and saw Merlin’s plane. Merlin was out, trying to talk down four guards in front of him. She aimed at them with her gun, but apparently she’d run out of bullets. Unfortunately, the guards heard the click of her gun and turned around, aiming at her instead.

“Merlin!” she shouted, ducking down and curling into a ball. She heard four distinct sound of a body hitting the floor, and peeked. Merlin stood tall, a rifle in one hand and four dead guards at his feet.

“Get in here!” he shouted at her, and she sprinted the rest of the way into the plane, ducking past Merlin and collapsing on a chair.

“Let’s get Lance and get the _fuck_ out of here!” she panted.

“Can’t do that,” Merlin said, looking frustrated. “Biometric security is what’s guarding the lock on the encryption on the SIM cards. Even with one satellite down it’d still cause massive devastation. You’re going to have to get back in there and make sure Gold’s hand never touches that lock.”

Emma stared at him. “Are you taking the fucking piss?” she demanded.

Merlin shrugged. “’Fraid not.”

Emma got back to her feet, motioning for the rifle still in Merlin’s hand. “I’ll need that, then.”

Merlin curled his body around the rifle, swatting her hand away. “Nope, _this_ beauty is mine.” He walked over to the back, by his desk, and clicked a button on his desk to open up a mini armory beside it. “ _These_ are yours.”

 

Emma ran back out with a reloaded gun and the Kingsman umbrella. In no time at all she was again being chased. She managed to take out the first ten, but each seemed to have two, three, _four_ to replace them. Quickly, she ducked into one of the doorways of a prison cell, taking cover behind their huge steel frames.

“Merlin, I’m fucked,” she said.

“As am I,” Merlin said. “Gold’s piggybacking on someone else’s satellite to reconnect his chain. He’s already loaded twenty percent of his information onto it”

“They’re coming at me from both sides, I’m out of options here. Lance, I need you to do me a favor. Call Henry and tell him to lock himself away in his room, and not to come out for anything. Then call my mum and tell her to lock herself away from Neal and lock themselves both away from Whale, and t-tell her I love her.” She closed her eyes, and then an idea came to her. “Merlin, you remember those implants?”

Silence on his end, and then one recklessly happy, “Yes?”

“Remember how you said they were of no use to us? Any way you could turn them on?”

More silence, and then: “ _Hell yes,_ ” before the sound of explosions filled her ears. Emma peaked around the corner, wrinkled her nose, and stayed hidden. Heads in the process of exploded weren’t all that pretty to look at.

The door behind her suddenly rattled, before opening inward, and Emma fell flat on her ass. Her ears rang from hitting her head on the floor so hard.

“Well,” a voice Emma thought she would never hear again said. “Sorry I’m late, Emma. It looked like you had all the fun.” Emma scrambled to her feet and threw herself into Regina’s arms, hugging her close and burying her head into her shoulder. Regina hugged her back just as tightly and muttered, “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” into her ear. Emma’s eyes were wet again, for some reason, even though she was ridiculously happy.

Emma finally looked up at the other occupant of the room, behind Regina. “Aren’t you that Swedish Princess that went missing?”

The Princess rolled her eyes, and held out her hand. Emma shook it, but didn’t let go of Regina. “Yes. Zelena Millstone.”

“Apparently she’s my sister,” Regina told her. She made no moves to let go of Emma either.

“No shit?” Emma said, smiling. There was absolutely nothing that could break her high now.

“You idiots!” Gold screeched over the intercom. _Well_ , Emma corrected herself, reaching for her gun. _Almost nothing_. “You honestly think I would be that stupid as to put one of those things in my own head? All those innocent people, dead! And for what, dearies? You didn’t stop _anything_!”

Patry music started playing over the intercom, and Merlin’s voice sounded frantic in Emma’s ear. “Emma, the signal’s started, and the world is going to shit! Get Gold’s hand off that bloody desk, _now_!”

“Gold’s started the signal,” Emma told Regina, running to the door. “You coming?”

“Like you’d survive on your own,” Regina said warmly, before grabbing her lapels, kissing her, and walking past. Emma was getting really tired of having no response but to gape like an idiot.

Zelena snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Well, go on!” she snapped at her. “Get out of here and go save the world! I’m not losing a sister I just found just because her favorite toy is an idiot!” Emma mockingly saluted her, and ran to catch up with Regina.

Regina and Emma both ran deeper into the hideout, and got to work. They moved in sync with each other: Regina fighting Cruella and Emma fighting Gold; Emma tossing a discarded gun to Regina just as she needed it; Regina throwing one of Cruella’s long knives through Gold’s back in a move that should have been on the front paper if they could, saving Emma’s life just as she needed it. And, surprisingly, they did indeed manage to save the world.


	10. Epilogue. - Manners Maketh the (Wo)Man

**Epilogue. – Manners Maketh the (Wo)Man**

“I hate children,” is what Zelena says the second Emma allows the car to answer the phone call. Her voice sounded especially whiny over the speakers. “And I hate your dog. Why am I babysitting again?”

“Because Regina is still getting used to her duties as Arthur, and I’m running the personal errand I told you about,” Emma responded. _Multiple times_ , she thought. “And you’re still staying with us until your security sorts itself out.”

Emma was still giddy at the _‘us’_ part of that sentence. It had been over a month since Valentine, and she still couldn’t believe it. Not only was she still with Kingsman, she was a knight! Her umbrella and watch engravings proudly gleamed, showing off the name ‘Gawain.’ Lancelot and her were devastating in the field when teamed up, becoming only more so when they worked with Mulan. Mulan had stepped in to be a temporary Galahad while they tested the new recruits, Tamara taking on her workload and becoming Merlin’s most trusted advisor in the process. Emma herself had to take on the workload of two or three Kingsman, but she couldn’t find it in herself to mind. She got to come home after a grueling day to the prettiest sight imaginable—a perfectly alive and immeasurably happy Regina, who was completely unaffected by the bullet to the head except for a pretty badass scar through one eyebrow.

Zelena muttered darkly on her end of the line, and Emma could hear Henry and JB trying to distract her. “Goodbye, Zelena,” she said, hanging up before Zelena could get a word in.

She pulled up in front of the familiar façade of Granny’s, parking the car carefully out of sight. Emma carefully slipped in, trying not to draw attention before she wanted to, but nearly blew it by snorting in disgust. Whale was too busy berating Mary Margaret for her song choice, his goons watching on with glee.

Just as Mary Margaret was about to turn the song off, Emma spoke up. “I don’t know, I kind of like the song,” she said, and Whale’s goons comically snapped to attention. They were smart enough to eye the suit she was now wearing, and stayed down. Whale, however, slammed his drink down and got to his feet.

“And the prodigal jailbait has returned to us,” he said. “You hoping to get your mum to come to your day in court dressed like that?”

“Oh, _this_ ,” she motioned down at the suit. “No, nothing like that. I know someone that just took over a tailor shop, and they offered me a job. The job comes with some perks—the biggest one being a house. D’you want to live with me there, mum?”

She nodded, and made to get up before Whale snapped, “Sit down!” He turned to Emma. “The only place she’ll be going to see you is in a hospital! I still haven’t forgotten you’re the reason one of my best men is _still_ in the hospital in a coma.” Reluctantly, the goons got up to surround Whale on either side.

“For god’s sake, leave her alone!” Mary Margaret shouted, getting up and going to stand beside Whale. “Emma, sweetheart, you don’t have to do this, you can go.”

“You might want to listen to your mother, girl,” Whale added.

Emma rolled her eyes, but turned back towards the door. “Go, on run back to your tailor friend with your tale between your legs, maybe he can get you a suit that actually look good with your ugly mug!”

Emma stopped just before the door, and took a deep breath. _Well, what better way to see just how much I’ve learned_? “As a good friend once told me,” she began as she locked the door. “Manners maketh the woman. Does anyone remember what that means?” She rested her umbrella on the same table, just before a nearly identical drink.

“I’ll shove your manners up you fucking a—” Whale retort was cut off by the drink smashing against his skull. Emma thought it was ridiculously satisfying to watch him fall to the ground.

She turned fully to the rest, winking at Mary Margaret, who was staring at her in disbelief. “Now, are we going to stand around here all day, or are we going to fight?”


End file.
